


Bring a Torch, Come Swiftly and Run

by BroadwayBaggins



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Candles, Christmas, Christmas traditions, F/M, Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins
Summary: A late, snowy night at Mansion House





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [middlemarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/gifts).



Snow had returned to Alexandria by the middle of December, a light dusting that hardly stuck to the ground. Extra blankets had been distributed to the boys on the ward, and the fires had been built up high once more before allowing to die down for the night. Most of the staff had already gone to sleep, leaving only a few to tiptoe silently between the beds, checking on patients once more before retiring themselves. Henry, too, remained awake, offering his services to men who had become much more spiritual since the start of December. Doctor Foster nodded to him as he went up the stairs, and Samuel Diggs politely wished him goodnight before he, too, retired. And then there were only two of them left on the wards. 

Anne Hastings might have fancied herself Florence Nightingale’s personal abassador in Alexandria, but in Henry’s mind, the true Lady with the Lamp in Mansion House was Mary Phinney. Candle in hand, she patrolled the space between the beds like the most loyal of guards, making sure all of her charges were settled before she would even think of going to bed herself. The firelight illuminated her face, tired but always ever ready to help should the need arise. She was, without doubt, one of the most selfless women Henry Hopkins had ever known.

He paused to pray with a boy from New Hampshire, and carefully closed the book of a soldier who had fallen asleep mid-sentence with the tome resting on his chest. Nurse Mary, in the row of beds across from him, adjusted a blanket and checked a dressing on a shrapnel wound. They did not speak, for fear of waking their patients, but they quickly settled into a quiet rhythm, with only the breathing of the sleeping soldiers and the flickering candle for company. Every so often, Henry would pause to look at her, not wanting to interrupt, but also not wanting her to feel alone on this cold night. On the wards, being the only one awake, would quickly threaten to fill one with loneliness and a sense of despair. Henry knew that very well.

When all the men had been tended to and the last prayers had been whispered, they met in the middle of the ward and smiled at each other, the tired smile of two souls who had a shared purpose and fulfillment in a hard day’s work done.

“Are you going up?” Mary asked softly. “I can leave you the candle…”

“I can light another,” Henry assured her. “No use in you walking up in the dark. You might twist an ankle, and then where would our boys be, with you laid up in bed?”

Mary chuckled quietly, the noise like a bell. “I’d find a way to help either way. Are you sure you do not want it?”

“I’ll be up in a moment. I can light another.” Henry smiled. “Did you know, when I was a child I would always sneak out of bed on Christmas Eve and light a candle to put in the window? I was in such trouble when they found out–I could have started a fire–but I didn’t want our house to be pitch-black for Father Christmas.”

“I would sneak out of bed on Christmas too!” Mary replied. “I had heard a story once that animals are given the power of speech for one hour on Christmas Eve, in honor of the animals in the stable with the Christ child, and so I would sneak downstairs to see if our cat had suddenly learned to speak. One year my brother and I even went to visit the neighbors cows.”

“And did they speak to you?”

She smiled. “They did not, but I never lost that hope.”

Henry gave a little laugh. “I should hope not. Good night, Nurse Mary.”

“Good night, Chaplain Hopkins.”

And Mansion House’s Lady with the Lamp turned to go, taking her candlelight with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Middlemarch wrote a lovely Mary/Henry piece yesterday, and inspired me to try my own! This can be read as BROTP or perhaps hinting toward something more. Mainly, I wanted to write these two babies on their own, because I haven't ever tried to do that before!
> 
> The legend Mary talks about does exist, and is something i first read about, ironically, in a book of Louisa May Alcott short stories called "The Quiet Little Woman." TItle comes from the traditional French carol, "Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella."


End file.
